Caer
by Answer
Summary: AU. The year is 2012. A young woman who dreams of adventure finds herself a tenant in the house of a monster. There's probably no point in being mysterious about the outcome but there'll be fun, fluff and sarcasm along the way!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello and welcome! If you're following either of my other stories, you may be reaching for a virtual pitchfork right now so let me quickly reassure you that I am still working on them. I'm just finding them kind of tough at the moment because they're both pretty complex and my experience is more in the area of fluffy romance, which is what you're looking at now._

_Those of you who've been reading my work for years will know that I always circle back to modern retellings and may also recognise the characters' names, Kerensa and Cariad, from 'Rosenmancer Hall', a story I wrote when I was 15. I enjoyed writing that in a way I've never enjoyed writing since, and I guess this is my latest attempt to recapture that feeling. I've changed a lot since then and keep trying to make things darker and edgier, like I'm too old (at 21!) to write straight-up romance any more. But, you know what? Maybe that was what made me happy. So, to be completely honest with you, this story is just a big ol' treat for me, kind of like buying a pint of Ben and Jerry's and going to town on it, only longer lasting and hopefully with fewer calories. But I know there are people out there who like the same flavour of romance that I do, and I also know that getting hits and reviews is another thing that makes me happy, so please feel free to grab a spoon and dig in!_

_... I feel like that piece of imagery may have outstayed its welcome. My apologies. Also, now I want ice cream.  
_

_Oh, oh, and just before I hand over to Kerensa, I feel like you might be wondering about the title. It's the Welsh word for "fortress". I'll come back to that in another AN. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

KERENSA

"You visiting someone, then?" Kevin, my taxi driver, asked me as we pulled out of the station. We'd bonded already over the weight of my suitcase as he'd heaved it into the boot. He'd observed that it was quite heavy and I'd pointed out, as tactfully as I could manage, that that was a fact that had not escaped me in the course of getting it onto one train, then off again in London, then onto the Tube, then onto a different line, then off the Tube and onto a train out of London, then off that train and over to his taxi. That had more or less shut the book on my luggage, but we had other conversational avenues to explore.

"Not exactly," I replied, absently turning over the scrap of paper in my hand on which Dad had written the address for me. "I'm starting a job in Bourneham tomorrow. It was quite lucky, actually, I was having trouble finding a place to live but this woman my Dad met through his work was looking for a lodger in her house up here."

Kevin glanced at me in the rear view mirror. "Guess the recession's hitting them over there as well, then. Still, can't feel too sorry for them, eh? I reckon the rent on half a shed over that way probably sets you back the price of a small village where I'm from. What's the job, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm going to work for a travel agent." I smiled. I couldn't help it. It might not have been the high-powered job I could tell my dad had been hoping I'd get when I left uni – to be honest, I'd never thought about it until I saw the job advertised – but I was excited. If I hadn't learned to recognise when people were only asking to be polite and didn't actually want to hear twenty minutes of exposition on why this job was _officially the best thing ever_, I'd have gone on to explain that we were talking about more than package holidays in Ibiza here. The company I was going to be working for specialised in arranging ethical gap year trips, conserving the rainforests, rehabilitating endangered species, that sort of thing. They organised amazing, once-in-a-lifetime adventures, adventures I'd only realised I wanted after three years of studying literary theory at university when all I really wanted were stories. The job they'd hired me for was just customer service stuff, answering the phones and replying to emails, but they'd said at the interview that there was the potential for development and they sent one or two of their own people on every trip to make sure things went smoothly. In a year or two, I could be one of those people.

Kevin appeared puzzled. "And you're going to be living actually in Bourneham?"

I checked the piece of paper. "Yeah. Ilvaine Avenue." I paused, realising that I hadn't been listening to him properly. "So, what, it's really posh round there?"

This time he looked at me for so long that I was worried about his awareness of other road users. "Let me put it this way. You know the Queen?"

I grinned. "I'm aware of her work."

"Right, well, she lives in Buckingham Palace because she can't afford to live in Bourneham."

"Ah." I leaned back in my seat to think this over. It was true that the rent I was going to be paying on this room was a bit steeper than I'd been paying for my share of a student house back at uni, but I'd assumed that this could probably be accounted for by Bourneham's proximity to London, and perhaps also by the presence of one or more kitchen appliances that had been manufactured within the last forty years, something that the student house had lacked along with safe wiring and tasteful decor. But it was beginning to sound as though anything that fell into my price range in this area might be found wanting in the department of say, walls. How well did Dad know this woman, anyway? She'd sounded alright on the phone. A bit, well, posh, now that I thought about it, and like she'd been in a hurry to get on with something else, but she hadn't _sounded_ like someone who'd rent out a questionable room to a colleague's daughter. I began to realise that that seemed a bit flimsy when I thought about it.

Well, too late to worry about it now. I gathered that we had a way to go so I fished my earphones out of my pocket and put on the audiobook I'd been listening to all the way here. It was a soppy romance: not always my first choice, but I'd only finished my final exams at university a week ago and my poor brain still felt a bit tender so I'd decided to give it an easy ride. We'd just reached the part where the Unsuitable Love Interest (TM) had revealed his ulterior motives and our Hero was about to ride in and save the day so I was able to get suitably engrossed until Kevin's voice broke through suddenly.

"What number on Ilvaine Avenue?"

I yanked out my earphones and referred yet again to the scrap of paper. "Just says 'Rose House'."

"Right," said Kevin.

He drove slowly down the street so that we could look for it. I'd been imagining something sort of cosy and cottage-like, but it quickly became clear that that would make it a serious anomaly on this street. We were looking not so much at a row of houses as a succession of gates, spaced well apart, beyond which I caught occasional glimpses of elegantly laid-out driveways. Only a couple of the houses were visible from the road, and they were impossibly old and beautiful.

I pulled a nervous face at Kevin's reflection. "So you were saying something about half a shed?"

"You are sure you've got the address right, love?"

I chewed my lip. "Not anymore."

"Hang on."

We stopped. I followed Kevin's gaze to the gate. It was an imposing, black wrought-iron number embedded in two high brick walls, topped with black spikes. If I'd been going to pick a house on the street to be my new home, I wouldn't have gone for this one. Which was unfortunate because, on closer examination, the curled details of the gate clearly picked out the words 'Rose House'.

"I suppose we can take that as a clue," I said, unclipping my seatbelt. Kevin stopped the engine and went round to the boot to retrieve my suitcase. I approached the gate, feeling weirdly out of proportion with it. It was unnecessarily huge. Beyond it, a smooth gravel driveway neatly bordered grass. I had come across the term "manicured lawn" before but never, I realised, fully understood it until now. This grass hadn't just been cut, it had been lavished with care and attention. Each neatly-cropped blade gleamed bright emerald. Standing next to it made me look malnourished. About ten metres along, the driveway widened to accommodate the fountain in the middle of it, and beyond that, shading my eyes against the glare of afternoon sunlight reflected from the windows, I could just about make out the house. It was a Georgian edifice of sandy-coloured stone, the front door raised off the ground by a short white staircase and flanked by a pair of thick pillars. Judging by the windows, it was three storeys high, not counting what looked like an attic room, and each storey had nine windows across the front of the house. It didn't look as though I needed to worry about getting under my landlady's feet too much. By the looks of this place she could get about twenty lodgers in there and quite comfortably forget about them.

There was an intercom button to the right of the gate. After a moment's hesitation, I pressed it.

A man's voice answered. "Yes?"

I was taken aback for a moment. Dad hadn't mentioned that anyone else lived in the house. I supposed it made sense, now that I knew how cavernous the place was. More worryingly, the speed of his response suggested that he'd already known I was there. A glance upward confirmed my suspicions: a security camera had imbued my squinting examination of my new abode with an undeserved immortality. Oh good.

I realised I probably ought to respond. "My name's Kerensa Hart. I think Mrs Wells is expecting me?"

There was a momentary pause. "You're the lodger?"

No point in denying it. "Yes."

"You're not moving in until tomorrow."

A horrible cold feeling rushed through me. I tore open the zip on my backpack and rummaged until I'd found the email I'd printed out that morning. I quickly read and re-read it, then returned my attention to the intercom. "No, it's, um, today. Thursday. The 24th. That's definitely the day Mrs Wells told me. Um... it is Thursday, isn't it?"

Another pause. Then the voice said "You'd better come in."

There was a whirring noise, then a creak, and the gates started to open. Kevin came up behind me and put down my suitcase. He looked through the gate and whistled.

"Nice."

I looked at the house again, then back at him. "Yeah. What do I owe you?"

"Seventeen fifty."

I dug a twenty out of my purse. "Keep the change."

"Thanks. Good luck with the new job."

"Cheers. Have a good day."

Afraid that the gates were going to close again, I picked up my suitcase and started to make my way down the drive. Halfway along I heard Kevin start his car and pull away. This was it. No turning back now. Well, obviously I could call another taxi. Maybe I'd have to, if they weren't expecting me to move in today. But still, hopefully not. And in spite of my nerves and the fact that I was pretty sure the suitcase had pulled something in my shoulder, I found I was enjoying the crunch of the gravel under my feet. And why not? I was starting a new life, and apparently in a stately home. Or possibly the shed out the back of one, we hadn't settled that yet. Again, hopefully not. And I was starting my new job on Monday. And after that... who knew? Momentarily unselfconscious, I looked up at the house and smiled. It was then that I caught a glimpse of movement in one of the second-floor windows. Oops.

As I approached the huge front door, it opened. For a moment I suspected the supernatural, but then a man appeared from behind it. He looked about my dad's age, his face slightly wrinkled in a way that gave him the appearance of being worried about something. He gave me a small smile, as though he didn't want to risk exposing his teeth for too long.

"Kerensa, hello. I do apologise for the mix-up. It appears that there was a... miscommunication." He seemed to direct this not at me but somewhere behind him, and as I entered I noticed that there was another, taller and slightly younger man behind him. How many people were in this house?

The second man rolled his eyes. "Relax, for Pete's sake. There's no harm done, is there?" He held out his hand to me. "Lovely to meet you, darling. I'm Lionel and this is Colin. Officially we're Angeline's personal assistants but we do a bit of everything."

I shook hands with both of them, trying really, _really _hard not to ask why someone who had two personal assistants would want to let out a room for a few hundred quid a month. "It's great to meet you."

"Now," Lionel said, "I'm sure you're eager to get settled in but we just have to, erm—"Here he and Colin exchanged glances "—Make sure the room's all ready for you. So maybe..."

A woman appeared. She was small, with white hair and a round face. If this hallway hadn't been, as I had just noticed without much surprise, enormous, it would have been getting crowded in here. "Hello, Kerensa, isn't it? What a lovely name, dear. So unusual. I'm Julie, the housekeeper. Would you like a nice cup of tea?"

I almost bit her hand off. You know, figuratively. "Yes please!" And then, as an afterthought: "Oh, and it's nice to meet you."

She smiled at me. "You too, dear."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know what you think so far!_

* * *

CARIAD

I didn't want her to be there. I thought I'd made that clear to Mother when she'd told me about it weeks ago, but apparently what I wanted didn't matter. Anyway, I definitely didn't want her there a day early. I was sitting in the room they were going to give her, just to show that yes, since this house was my whole world now I _did_ need all of it, when I heard a car outside. I looked out and there she was, gawping through the gate. A recent university graduate, Mother had said. So that was _nice_. That meant she'd have gone to university the same year I was supposed to. She'd probably been in her first lecture about the time I'd been shipped up from London to start living in exile. Presumably Mother thought I'd like to hear all about it.

I subjected her to a swift examination. Long brown hair, fair complexion. Pretty, as far as I could make out. Why wouldn't Mother just give up? I had, and it had given me the only satisfaction I could remember feeling for years. Being stuck out here in the country ought to at least mean some bloody peace and quiet. And what was she doing here _now_? Lionel had definitely said Friday. Tomorrow. I was sure of it, because what I'd been doing until that moment was idly fantasising about just leaping off the first-floor balcony at her as she walked up the drive and roaring in her face, which would have served the dual purpose of getting rid of her and giving me a good laugh. The memory of that could have sustained me through the empty boredom of at least a week. But today I hadn't had time to build up to it. I just watched her approach the house, wide-eyed. Where had Mother found this one, for crying out loud? She was the daughter of someone she'd met through work, apparently. Mother met a lot of people through her work, not all of them, it seemed, desirable. Although she _was_ attractive, in a gormless sort of way.

She looked up suddenly, smiling. Weird. I drew back quickly, then wondered why. She was going to live here, she might as well know. And if it encouraged her to turn around and go back where she came from, so be it. But I hid.

A few minutes later I heard Lionel and Colin on the stairs. I waited until they'd rounded the corner into the corridor, then threw the door open in front of them.

"What," I demanded, as they entered, "is she doing here?"

Lionel gave a wavering smile. They were used to me now, more or less, but it still freaked them out if I got too close, or they saw me when they weren't expecting to. "Oh, Ca- er, Mr Wells." I'd got them to start calling me that for a laugh. They say a man's home is his castle and since I was pretty much stuck in mine forever I thought I might as well start commanding a bit of respect. After all, they were only here because Mother paid them to take care of me. That meant they were like my servants.

"Well?"

Lionel ran a hand through his hair, uneasily. "Yes, sorry about that. My fault. I could have sworn that Mrs Wells said Friday but Colin's just checked the email she forwarded to us and apparently the day she agreed with Kerensa was today. But it doesn't really matter, I'll just look out a set of bedding and we'll get her settled in."

There was a phone just inside the room. I snatched it up and held it out to him. "Call my mother."

Colin interjected. "Mr Wells, your mother is very busy—"

"I don't care," I said. "You're paid to help me, aren't you? So help. Get my mother on the phone." Turns out companies don't design phones for use by people with three-inch partially-retractable claws. I'd had limited success with an unsharpened pencil before but right now I wasn't in the mood.

Lionel sighed, took the phone off me and manipulated the speed dial before handing it back. I held it in a clumsy fist.

Mother answered on the second ring, her voice clipped, hurried. "Angeline Wells."

"Mother," I growled. "The girl's here."

"Cariad," she said, starting before I'd finished, "I'm very busy. What is it you want?"

"She was supposed to come tomorrow."

"No, darling, we said Thursday. Did she get there alright? Is the room ready?"

"I don't want her to be here."

"I know. But, look, why don't you give her a chance? She seems a very nice girl."

I gripped the phone tighter. The plastic creaked. "I don't care, Mother. I want her to go."

"Is she pretty?"

I let out a noise of frustration. "I can't be bothered with this anymore, Mother! I told you. Nothing else has worked. What makes you think this is going to?"

Someone else was talking to her in the background. "I'm sorry, darling, I've got a meeting. Just give it a chance, alright? Love you, bye!"

I slammed the phone back into its cradle.

Colin coughed the way he always did before saying something he felt would be a bit delicate. "Some people might argue that you're lucky that your mother hasn't given up on you being cured."

I bared my teeth at him. "Anyone who thinks I'm _lucky_," I spat the word back at him, "is welcome to take my place any day."

I stormed down the corridor on all fours. Why the hell not? It was more comfortable that way. It was what my body was designed for. And I knew by now that I was going to look like this whatever I did, so why not embrace it now and then?

"So, it's going _great_ so far," I heard Lionel mutter to Colin as I reached the end of the corridor. I slammed the door behind me.

Luck. Luck? I didn't want to think about that again. The day it happened. The day I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The day I was punished for something _everyone does_. Not again. Three years had been plenty of time to consider all the what-ifs, to imagine how things might have been different, to think about how little it would have cost me to save myself. There were days when that was all I did, when I couldn't remember anything else. I didn't want another one of those days.

I thought about the girl. At least in this hideously unchanging prison she was something new. Perhaps she'd distract me for a bit. With that in mind, I took the stairs at the end of the corridor that led down a spiral staircase to the kitchen. As I made to open the door, I realised I could hear voices. Julie and the girl were making small talk over tea.

"It's a gorgeous house. I had no idea it would be so big! I couldn't believe it when the taxi brought me here. I'm amazed I can afford to rent a room in a house like this."

I heard Julie hesitate. "Well, I think Mrs Wells was more concerned about getting the right person than the right price, if you see what I mean, dear."

That was one way of putting it. I could picture Mother, barely able to contain her excitement when this man had mentioned that his daughter needed a place to stay in Bourneham. She'd have offered to pay _her_ if that wouldn't have looked suspicious. Maybe that was the next step, a cash reward for anyone who could love her freak of a son. Maybe she was never going to give up. Maybe my mother was going to force me to terrorise pretty girls until one of us died.

The girl was talking again. "So how many people live here?"

"Well, Mrs Wells spends most of her time in London running her business, so it's usually just the two of us – well, three with you here now dear. Lionel and Colin have a house just round the corner."

"So who's the third person?"

_You are,_ I thought. _Interloper._ I was the first person. She could have belonged anywhere else. She didn't need to belong here. I did.

"That's Cariad, dear. Didn't Mrs Wells tell you about her son?"

"No." She sounded surprised. "Actually, she didn't tell me very much. I just kind of assumed that it would just be me and her in a little house together. This is all a bit of a shock, to be honest with you!"

Well, if she found that a shock...

"Not to worry, dear. I'm sure you'll settle in in no time."

"I hope so. Everyone seems really nice! Is Mrs Wells' son... what did you say his name was? Is he here?"

"His name is Cariad. I'm sure you'll meet him soon. But dear, perhaps I should tell you..." Oh, this was going to be good. "He's, er... he's not well."

I felt my lip curl in bitter amusement. _Go on. Ask. I know you want to._

"Oh." _Go on_. "I'm... I'm sorry to hear that."

"He looks... he's... he's very unusual in his appearance. Try not to be frightened when you meet him."

A pause. The sound of a mug being lowered onto the table. "I'm sure I won't be."

_Hah_.

I resented her, that was what it was. She was unremarkable. Ordinary. In another life we might quite happily have ignored one another. Our paths would probably never have crossed. But now, if I hadn't already decided not to hope any more, she would have been my chance. Just like the others were supposed to be. And if you'd asked her now, if someone had come up to her right now and asked her, she would have said that yes, she was basically a good person, that she believed in justice and in treating people fairly and in seeing beyond what was on the surface and all kinds of crap like that. Of course she would. And because no one had ever proven otherwise, she got to go around thinking that was true. The other girls hadn't been bad people, not really, they weren't being punished like me. But they'd all run. Because how could anything look like me not be dangerous, evil? She was just like them and, just then, I hated her for it.

"Is there a supermarket near here?" she was asking. "I'd better go shopping before it gets dark or I won't have anything to have for dinner."

"Wouldn't you like to eat with us? I was just about to get a joint of lamb on."

"Oh, well, that's very kind of you, but my rent doesn't include food—"

_Sod it._

"Yes," I said, throwing the door open. "Why don't you join us for dinner?"

She jumped up, knocking her chair over. The colour drained from her face and her mouth hung open, gawkingly unattractive.

I swallowed, hard.

_Run, _I thought. _Go on, run. Run away now and save me the trouble of wondering._

She didn't move.


	3. Chapter 3

_Quick note before I start: I've renamed Mrs Potts "Julie" because, as SamoaPhoenix9 pointed out, it's kind of weird to hang on to just one original character name. She's probably Julie Potts, though. Samoa actually pointed that out after the first chapter but because I'd already written the second I forgot to change it before posting and only just realised. Thanks Samoa!_

* * *

KERENSA

Woah.

OK, _woah_.

One minute, it had been just me and Julie and a nice cup of tea. The next...

He was huge. That was what struck me first. The high ceilings and huge doorways made everything else look tiny but he _loomed_. The rest of it could have been a Halloween costume except that he was talking, his body was moving and oh, oh my God he _was_ real.

He was... he was an animal. I couldn't tell what kind. Features leapt at me faster than I could process them: fur, fangs, horns, claws... what _was_ he?

Adrenaline flooded through me. This was danger of a kind that I had never even imagined before, not really. I mean, you watch films and you read books with monsters in them but they don't frighten you, not in the same way as stories about, I don't know, stalkers or serial killers, because they don't exist in the real world. I had no idea what to do. I didn't even have enough information to panic. Unable to decide between fight or flight I found I was just standing there, staring.

It was catching sight of Julie that unfroze me. After a moment or two I realised that she wasn't showing any signs of alarm which meant, I supposed, that she was not particularly surprised by the presence of this creature in her kitchen. I remembered that we'd been talking about fear only moments ago. _"Try not to be frightened when you meet him."_

So this was... Cariad?

Bloody hell.

How... how was that... possible? I mean, what... just, _what_?

"Not well" seemed like kind of an understatement.

Julie looked from me to him and back again a few times before addressing him. "Now look, Cariad," she said. "You've frightened the poor girl."

He was looking at me. It was impossible to read his expression but it didn't look friendly. The last thing I wanted to do was offend him. I forced myself to breathe.

"N-no," I stammered, my voice coming out a little higher and breathier than usual. "I was just... Sorry, I was just... surprised. You know, because you, um, because I didn't realise you were, you were behind that door. I didn't even notice there was a door there because, um, you know, I came through that one." I went to gesture behind me and realised that the crashing noise I'd been vaguely aware of a few moments ago had been my chair falling over when I stood up. "Sorry, I'll, um..." I bent to pick it up. Nobody spoke. I pushed the chair carefully back under the table. "I'm Kerensa. The new... I'm renting a room. Here. Um. It's... it's nice to meet you, Cariad."

I always find that it's when under pressure that I'm at my most eloquent.

"Hmm," said Cariad, if you could call that a response.

I wavered, wishing Julie would say something. She didn't.

"Well, I'll just..." Oh hell. I couldn't make my excuses with nowhere to go. I didn't even know where my room was, much less anywhere in town I could have gone to make myself scarce for a bit, though I was a little bit afraid that if I left the building now I might not find the courage to come back.

"Cariad," said Julie, "why don't you show Kerensa to her room?"

_Oh no_.

I looked back at him, this time forcing myself to remain calm enough to process the features on at a time. He was tall, a good head taller than me, with wild hair that stuck out at odd angles and served to make him look even taller and sort of... bushy. He had all the right features in the right place, but they were all distorted and wrong, like he'd been cobbled together out of bits of animals. Much of his face was kind of feline and there was something doglike about what I could only term his muzzle. Beyond that we ventured away from the aisles of Pets At Home towards the zoo: his stance put me in mind of a bear rudely-awakened mid-hibernation to find it had somehow acquired a hangover. Long, bulky arms hung at his sides and at the tips of his broad, stubby fingers I could just make out a gleam of claws. Although he'd somehow managed to cram himself incongruously into a pair of jeans they somehow served to make him look slightly worse, although I suppose I wasn't keen to findout what was under them. What was visible was covered in thick, dark fur.

I forced myself to take control. I could think of a dozen ways he could already have killed me if he'd wanted to. And I needed the room. Presumably this explained why the rent was so cheap.

But oh my God. Oh my _God_.

He glared for a moment, then stalked out into the hallway. "Come on," he said, without looking back.

I looked at Julie. "Thank you for the tea," I said.

"You're welcome, dear."

I followed him out of the room and found he was already striding up the grand staircase. I picked up my suitcase and struggled after him.

_Monster man, man monster, I'm walking upstairs with a man-monster-thing oh crap oh crap oh crap. But it has to be safe, it has to be, he can talk, he's even walking like a person, like a huge, hairy person with claws and, wait, is that a tail? Oh my God it's a tail. He's got a tail. Don't stare don't stare calm down-_

He turned to face me suddenly and I contrived to look like I'd been really interested in the banisters. And also not to wet myself.

"Are you going to be here long?" he asked.

"Hope so," I replied, desperately polite. Here it came, panicked babble to avoid an awkward silence: "I've got this job in town, working for-"

He cut me off. "I don't care." Then, gesturing back down the way we'd come: "The other side of the staircase is the west wing," he said. "Those are my rooms. Don't go in there."

I nodded, not remotely interested in risking any unnecessary encounters with him. We walked in silence to the end of the corridor where he pointed out a door with one curved, pointed claw. I tried to suppress a shiver.

"Here," he said.

"Thanks." _I think. _I put my hand on the handle.

"You'll join us for dinner," he said.

Oh, _hell_ no. I mean, I didn't like to turn down free food, but there was no way I was feeling strong enough for a whole meal with him.

"Oh—oh, that's OK, I really should, I mean, that's very kind and everything, but I'd better, you know, strike out in search of a supermarket..."

"I wasn't asking."

I gripped the door handle. "Um. Alright."

He looked me up and down, grunted and started to walk off. I hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and closed it behind me. There was a key in the lock so I turned it. Then I put down my suitcase and started to cry. It was a mixture of the nerves I'd been trying to suppress all day and the several shocks I'd experienced since arriving.

It wasn't even just what he looked like, although when I shut my eyes all I could see were flashes of fangs and claws. His hostility was unmistakeable. I told myself that it would have been bad just to find that my landlady had a son who was making it known that he didn't want me in the house, but I could hardly pretend that the fact that he was... whatever he was... didn't make a difference.

What was he, anyway? How could someone talk like a normal person but look like that? Was there some kind of werewolf thing going on here? I couldn't believe I was seriously thinking that. Maybe it was some kind of rare medical condition? That made more sense. Oh hell, what if it was, and I'd been staring at him, freaking out? How rude was that? Maybe that was why he was being so unfriendly. I could hardly say I blamed him if it was. I tried to replay the last few minutes in my head. Bollocks. There was nothing for it, I was just going to have to go downstairs for dinner and be less of an idiot.

Calming down a bit, I started to look around the room. There were no two ways about it: it was gorgeous. Sunlight streamed in through a huge window that overlooked the driveway and reflected off smooth cream walls. A huge and neatly-made bed claimed centre stage and there was a desk against the wall to my right that looked antique. Further investigation turned up two doors to the left which I assumed were cupboards. In one case I wasn't entirely wrong: a walk-in wardrobe is _kind_ of a cupboard. The other one led to an ensuite bathroom. The sense that I shouldn't be here was overwhelming, even without Cariad making his views on the matter clear. A month's rent on a room like this should have been three or four times what I was paying.

After that, I set about ignoring the situation as a means of coming to terms with it. I set my laptop up on the desk and put on some music – quietly – while I unpacked. It didn't take long. The huge room swallowed a suitcase full of stuff like it wasn't even there. My clothes huddled self-consciously in the corner of the wardrobe. I put the empty case in there just to keep them company. I'd have to get Dad to drive up here sometime with a few bin bags full of stuff from home, just so that the room felt like it was mine. Then again, despite what I'd said to Cariad, it didn't feel like I'd be here long. It was all so surreal.

My phone rang just as I was wondering what on earth to do next. I checked the screen.

"Hey Dad. I was just about to call you." This wasn't strictly true, but I'd just remembered that I'd promised to when I arrived.

"Hello love. Did you get there alright?"

I related in brief the uninspiring train saga. "I'm in my room now. It's, um... nice." I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn't be sure I wouldn't be overheard. That was the thing about shared houses: you were restricted to complaining about your housemates by text or email unless you were absolutely sure they were out. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if Cariad had had some kind of crazy, doglike hearing. Oh God, was that mean?

Dad was still talking. "What do you think of Angeline?"

"Mrs Wells?" I gave the door a sidelong glance. "She's not here."

"Oh." He seemed surprised. Reasonably, I suppose. I'd been briefly surprised by it myself, now that I thought about it. It was just that the absence of the woman I'd been expecting to meet me seemed pretty banal by comparison. "Who let you in, then?"

I scratched my forehead. "Her household staff."

"Her what?"

"Yeah, I know, exactly. And her son's here too."

I could picture Dad's expression of puzzlement perfectly. "Well. That's all news to me, love. But you're alright?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." Someone knocked on the door. I jumped, disproportionately alarmed. "Dad, I've got to go. I'll call you again soon."

"OK love. Speak to you soon."

I took a moment to give myself a stern look in the mirror and tried to scrape together some composure, then called "Come in."

The door opened. Colin sidled in. "Everything alright in here?"

I hoped my relief wasn't visible. "It's amazing, thank you."

"Well, let us know if you need anything. In the meantime... dinner is served."

I nodded and tried to smile. "Great!"

* * *

_I figured that, since Kerensa doesn't have the whole "imprisoning her father" thing to hate Cariad for, she'd have a harder time getting out of agreeing to dinner. That doesn't mean she's going to enjoy it._

_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! X_


	4. Chapter 4

_As always, sorry for the delay! Since I last updated I've graduated from university and got a full-time job, so I've got way less free time than I'm used to – though it is at least actually free, since my job doesn't come with homework, so that's pretty cool! I've worked particularly hard on this chapter, so I really hope you like it, and I'm getting really excited for the rest of this story!_

_On a different subject, does anyone else hate, like, every single change that FFdotnet has made in the last month or so?_

* * *

CARIAD

I didn't regret telling the girl to eat with us. I never regretted anything, apart from the obvious. Because really, what's the point? Life's pretty much a load of crap anyway, so what difference does it make if you do something stupid on the spur of the moment? Given the choice, I think I'd rather screw up my own life than let fate or God or whatever do it for me. Not that there was a whole lot of scope for it to get worse. So yeah, sure, demanding that this pretty girl eat with me when I looked like what would happen if your two worst nightmares went through about eight generations of inbreeding would probably, technically, come under the heading of making life more difficult for myself. But not as difficult as Mother was by sending her here in the first place. And not nearly as difficult as—

"Cariad!"

I spun round. Was Julie _trying_ to make me jump? What was she sneaking around like that for?

"It's Mr Wells!" I snapped, the unpleasant rasp of my voice making it a snarl. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She winced and I felt a twinge of what must have been guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice level and uncharacteristically cold. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour, Mr Wells."

It sounded weird when she said it and I thought about changing my mind and getting her to say Cariad, but backing down would have made me look stupid so I just grunted "OK."

She hesitated, then made for the door. When she reached it, she took a breath and turned. "Kerensa seems like a nice girl," she ventured.

I looked away. "Don't get attached to her," I said. "She won't be here long."

And that, I realised as Julie's footsteps faded down the corridor, was my plan. I didn't want the girl to be here. Mum wouldn't send her away and apparently now the others were against me too. The only way I was going to get any peace was if she decided to leave of her own accord. She'd obviously been about to cry when I left her outside her room, so that was a good start, but she'd been trying to hide it. She didn't want to show that she thought I was disgusting, presumably because she was such a _nice person_. She didn't want to be rude.

Personally, I didn't have any problems in that direction. I was sick to death of being lied to. All of them, Mother, Lionel, Colin, they kept making out like there was hope, like there was some genuine chance that someone might fall in love with me, like I might actually end up free again. I'd have done anything just to hear one of them admit that it would never happen, for someone to accept it the way I had and help me figure out what to do with the rest of my life, instead of just sitting here waiting for Hell to freeze over. I'd begun to wonder if they might actually be getting there, because it had been a couple of months since anyone had said anything annoying about maybe trying online dating or whatever, but this girl turning up had ruined everything. They were thinking it already, I knew it. She'd been here ten minutes and in everyone's heads she was slipping a hand in my paw and telling me I was perfect just the way I was. Jesus.

So, I was going to make her leave. Shouldn't be too hard.

Now that I was sure Julie had gone, I tugged a dustsheet off the large flatscreen monitor in the corner of my room. I almost never turned it off, since remotes presented the same problems to someone over-endowed in the claw department as a phone, but that didn't mean I could stand to look at it all the time. The display was linked to a live feed from the basement, where Mother had had a specially-designed capsule built to house the rose. As soon as she found out that the curse was scheduled to become permanent when the last petal fell, Mother had been on the phone to her contacts in the field of botanical research – Mother had contacts in the field of everything – and within two weeks I'd been the lucky owner of a sealed unit that, apparently, would preserve it for three to four years. In theory, then, time was just about running out now. Or maybe it already had. An artificially-preserved rose proved nothing. Then again, it was eerie, the way it looked exactly the same as it had the day she gave it to me. Could that really just be science, or was something else still at work here?

I glared at it for a moment, then threw the cover back on and strode out of the room. Dinner time.

Again.

* * *

_Day 21_

The rose wasn't the only thing Mother dealt with as fast as possible. Less than a month after I came home cursed, Mother found Sara. I was still with her in London then , and as the black cab pulled up outside the building she came into my room and gave me a pep talk. Sara, she said, was perfect for me. Her father played golf with my uncle at weekends and owned a company that imported particularly expensive wines.

"I was going to introduce the two of you in a few years, when we started to think about marriage for you, but I suppose we'll just have to speed things along now, given your condition."

I scraped the windowsill with my claws. "You mean the fact that I'm a Beast?"

She gave a short, sharp sigh. "Don't say things like that, Cariad. You're just sick. Very sick. But you're going to get better. And don't do that to the windowsill. Now, do you remember what we discussed?"

"Yes."

But she repeated it anyway. "Sara is a very attractive and well-educated young lady with good prospects so you'll have to watch your behaviour. I've explained to her mother that you're suffering from an unusual disease at the moment but expected to make a full recovery, and I've also shown them a picture of you before, you know..."

I nodded. I knew.

There was a respectful knock at the door and Colin eased his way in as delicately as possible. "Mrs and Miss Bloom have arrived, Mrs Wells," he said.

Mother nodded at him, fixed me with a stern look and swept out of the room, leaving the two of us to follow in her wake. Colin gave my shoulder a single, cautious pat.

"Good luck," he whispered. I grunted in response.

Sara and her mother were sitting on Mother's expansive cream chaise, sipping cups of tea. They stood up as Mother entered.

"Angeline, darling," said Sara's mother, as though they'd ever spoken three consecutive words to one another in their lives. "It's so good to see you." Mother accepted her embrace and two air kisses with a wan smile. "And this must be- Oh."

I was getting used to it already, the moment when someone who'd caught sight of me out of the corner of their eye turned to give me the benefit of a good long stare.

Mother beckoned me closer without looking at me. "This is my son, Cariad."

Sara's mother gave a broad, fixed smile. "Oh. How lovely." Then, beckoning in much the same way, "This is my daughter, Sara."

I got a good look at Sara then, a sweet-faced girl with blue eyes and blonde hair. I could see how hard she was trying to smile, and in that same moment I saw also that she was young, just like I was, far too young to be taken to a strange flat to meet someone her parents wanted her to marry.

"Hello, Cariad," she said, in a small, quiet voice. And then she started to cry.

* * *

"We meet again."

I blinked sharply, jolted back into the present. It was Kerensa, approaching the stairs at the same time as I was, with Colin by her side. She spoke with forced joviality, not quite looking at me. I moved aside so they'd go down the stairs first, but Kerensa didn't move until I did so we ended up walking in a row.

"Yes," I replied. This seemed to close the matter and we walked in silence until we were halfway down. Since she wouldn't look at me I took the opportunity to further my examination of her. She _was_ pretty, if you liked that sort of thing. Full lips, long, shiny hair, wide brown eyes. She looked increasingly twitchy as the silence went on, and suddenly burst out, with unnecessary enthusiasm:

"So, Colin, what's for dinner?"

"Roast lamb, I think."

"Sounds great."

And silence descended again.

* * *

_Day 151_

Kate was my idea. Or my fault, whatever you want to call it. She was the younger sister of one of my friends from school and I'd always known that she fancied me. She wasn't my type, which was why I'd never asked her out before, but I wasn't in a position to be picky now so I sent her a message on Facebook asking her to come over sometime. What happened would have been funny if it wasn't so pathetic: I came in the room and she frowned and asked me why I was wearing a Halloween costume. Once we finally established that I couldn't take it off and this was not, in fact, my idea of a joke, she ran out of the building screaming. Not an overwhelming success.

* * *

When we reached the kitchen, Kerensa made a bid for the far side of the table that was almost certainly less subtle than she thought it was.

"Do you need any help, Julie?" she asked, an edge of desperation to her voice.

Julie wasn't about to let her off that easily. "Oh, no, that's alright, dear. Why don't you have a seat?"

Kerensa looked like she was about to try again but apparently deduced that she was beaten. Lionel, who'd already been in the kitchen with Julie, pulled out a chair for her. She flashed him a strangely striking smile and sat down. I yanked out the chair closest to me and sank into it. Julie and the others served the food, Kerensa smiled some more though still without looking at me, and we all started to eat. It wasn't for a few minutes that it occurred to me that I was failing to make the most of this opportunity to make her time here unpleasant. I was just trying to think of something scathing to say when Lionel said:

"So, Kerensa, why don't you tell us more about this job of yours? What are you going to be doing?"

Kerensa finished chewing her mouthful of food and swallowed. "Oh, well, it's just customer service, really. But the company's really exciting. They run trips all over the world, gap year experiences and things. It's a great opportunity."

"It sounds lovely," Julie agreed.

I kicked myself into gear. "Where are you from?" I asked Kerensa, glowering at her across the table.

She was thrown, but not for long. "Oh, well, I grew up in Cornwall, but I went to uni in-"

I cut her off. "Long way to come to work for a travel agent."

She turned her head to one side a little, staring at me a bit too hard as she thought about her answer. Finally, she said: "Well, it's all part of the adventure. Like I said, it's a good opportunity."

I snorted. "That's your idea of an adventure, is it?"

She smiled. It was infuriating. "I've been doing nothing but reading literary criticism for three years," she said. "Just living in the real world sounds like a pretty big adventure to me."

I stared back at her. "This is not the real world. In case you hadn't noticed." _And you won't be living here for long._ I wondered why I couldn't say that part out loud.

Kerensa lowered her fork and reached for her glass of water. "We'll see," she said.

* * *

_Day 402_

Mother sought out professional help this time. Not doctors, I'd seen them all already. Someone recommended a professional matchmaking service to her. She made me do a survey over the phone with them about the sort of young lady I'd like to be matched up with and wouldn't let me give "I don't know, blind?" as an answer. They gave us the contact details for Felicity. Mother suggested that I get to know her via phone and email for a bit first, presumably so that she'd trust me not to tear her limb from limb like an angered bear when she eventually met me. So I phoned and emailed her. We were in touch for almost six months before we actually met, in the end. Felicity was funny and kind and warm and seeing a new email used to make my day, no matter how bad things felt. I began to believe, that was the worst part.

She came to stay with us. Mother sat her down for a long chat when she arrived, warned her about my appearance, made sure she understood. We didn't meet until the second day. Mother tried to do it as gently as possible, brought me slowly into the room where Felicity was waiting. She took a deep breath, took it all in and then smiled at me. It was the best feeling I could remember having in a long time.

She met me show her around the house and when the conversation hit a lull she said "So your mother says you're under a curse."

I tried to shrug. "I know it sounds crazy but... well, look at me."

She looked. "But she said you'll get better? That the curse can be broken?"

"Yeah." I looked away. "If I fall in love and the person loves me back."

"Oh," she said. And then she smiled again and everything was alright.

A week later, it was her last night with us. We sat in the garden together and I tried to say goodbye. What I said instead was "I love you."

She looked away and shook her head softly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go."

I got a couple of emails from her after that saying she was sorry but she just couldn't see me that way. I didn't reply to them. I didn't know what to say.

* * *

I spent the rest of the meal in silence, but in my head I was screaming at her, at all of them.

_Go home, Kerensa. Go home and leave me in peace._


	5. Chapter 5

KERENSA

Dinner could have been a lot worse. I'd expected, I guess, that Cariad was going to give me a really hard time (possibly deserved, since I'd been freaking out about his medical condition, whatever it was) but apart from being vaguely rude about my job, he was surprisingly quiet. Sort of subdued, like he had other things on his mind. I was relieved when he left as soon as he'd finished eating, though: vanishing back, presumably, to his secret part of the house.

There was silence for a few moments, then Colin said "Ah!" We turned to look at him. "Kerensa's keys!" he said. "I almost forgot."

"Oh yes!" Julie stood up and rummaged in a drawer in the corner of the kitchen. After a moment or two, she produced a bunch of keys which she held out to me. "There you go, dear."

Lionel gave me a wide, toothy smile. "Welcome to Rose House."

Colin leaned across the table towards me as Julie started to clear the plates away. "So what do you think, Kerensa? Do you think you're going to like it here?"

I slipped my index finger through the keyring, so the keys hung against my palm. "I'm not sure," I said. "I suppose it depends how work goes tomorrow." _And if the Teen Wolf up there decides to chill out a bit._

Julie gave me a sweet, warm smile. "Well," she said, "you're very welcome, anyway."

Perhaps it was the unexpected stress of the day, but I felt a bit teary then. "Thank you," I said.

Julie declined my offer of help with the washing up so I beat a grateful retreat back up to my room. I spent about ten minutes perched on the end of my colossal bed wondering what on earth I was going to do next, then got up and googled nearby supermarkets. There was a big Sainsbury's about half an hour's bus ride away that would probably have to be my source for a weekly shop but I didn't feel up to that right now. I opted instead for a trip to the Tesco Express a few streets away. Julie asked where I was going as I made my way across the entrance hall and, when I told her, she promised to rearrange to contents of the fridge so I could have my own shelf when I got back. It was a shame about Cariad's hostility, I thought then, because everyone else was so lovely.

And then I was outside in the fresh air, down the drive and out through the gates – which I'd forgotten about, but examination of the bunch of keys Colin had provided me with turned up a complicated silver one which opened a small, person-sized gate next to the big, imposing double ones. Closing it behind me and setting off down the road felt like rejoining civilisation: the evening sun was still pleasantly bright and a cool, refreshing breeze felt like it was waking me from a dream. It was almost as though Rose House constituted a different world: a strange, beautiful yet baffling place ruled by a... whatever he was.

I was doing it again, thinking insensitive things. But nothing had prepared me for this. Everyone knows about equality and everything. Treating everyone with respect regardless of their differences is normal, unless you're an idiot, but at no point could I recall school, my parents or television giving me a heads-up that one day I might run into someone who was an actual, honest-to-God monster. Surely I could be forgiven for being a bit shocked?

I reviewed the day so far in my head. It had seemed like a pretty big one when I woke up, what with moving to a new place to start a new life and everything, but apparently there'd been room for an extra challenge or two. Because apparently you're not a proper grown-up until life's sprung a werewolf on you. Oh God, I was still doing it. I took a few extra-deep breaths as I rounded a final corner and spotted the Tesco._ Right._ Time to pick up enough food to see me through my first few days at work – and enough chocolate to see me through the stress I was already experiencing – and then I was going to brush my teeth, lock my bedroom door and curl up in bed with a book, and refuse to allow my life to get any more interesting. It wasn't much of a plan but it soothed me a bit.

I reached the door at the same time as a tall guy about my age. I hadn't noticed him until we attempted to occupy the same square foot of space because I was already walking and pondering at the same time, which was about all I could cope with at that point. He indicated that I should go ahead.

"Cheers," I said, and went ahead. We moved in tandem towards the stacks of baskets, where we both reached for the same one. I let out one of those "awkward situation with a benign stranger" laughs that are also handy for when you do that dance on the pavement where you try to get out of each other's way but keep moving in the same direction. "All yours," I told him.

"Thanks," he said.

I'd been vaguely avoiding eye contact, because I was firmly in get-groceries-and-go mode, but at this moment I accidentally made it just in time to get the full effect of the smile he gave me. The guy was ridiculously, inhumanly good-looking. He had shiny, almost-black hair smoothed upwards and sky-blue eyes outlined by dark lashes. He also had a strong jaw and a slightly cheeky look that suggested that he might wink at you at any moment and, while that might have creeped you out if it was someone else, it would be OK because it was him. Honestly, if God actually did happen to be trying to think of a gift to give women, He'd probably sketch out some blueprints that looked suspiciously like this guy. But even without the considerable back-up it was getting from the rest of him, all I could think was that this smile could have got me in and out of a fancy restaurant, back to his place and into his pants before I'd memorised his name. It was a smile that seemed to ask if anyone had ever mentioned to you how perfect you were just by existing and it would have taken a stronger woman than I was not to make a startled noise that sounded a bit like "Whhrrrrgggghh" when I saw it.

"I'm sorry?" he said.

"Um. Nothing." _Balls._

He smiled again. There ought to have been laws preventing him from doing it in public. "You're new here, right? I haven't seen you before."

"Do you know everyone who shops here?" Apparently my brain had started some kind of back-up engine because there's no way my conscious mind was putting together whole sentences.

He shrugged. "Nah. But you come at the same time and you start to see the same faces. I know you're not a Sunday night regular here, anyway. And I'm sure I'd remember seeing you before."

I made a noise that sounded nothing like the normal, socially-acceptable laugh I'd come to think of as my own. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." And then – _oh my God_ – he actually did wink. "What's your name?"

"Kerensa."

"That's an unusual name."

"It's Cornish," I said, like this answered anything. "It means love."

"That's cool," he said. "I like it. My name's Darren. Darren Gaston."

"Nice to meet you."

He smiled again. _Seriously!_ "You too, Kerensa. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Yeah."

And then he was gone, moving off in the direction of the frozen foods. I stood in front of the magazines for a bit, recovering.

_Pft,_ said my cool, cynical side. _Talk about cheesy._

Then, chiming in from Team Hormones: _Heehee... he said he'd see me around sometime_.

Oh dear.

* * *

_Hey guys! As you can see, I'm taking things in a slightly different direction with Gaston. I dived in with the Beauty-meets-Beast stuff very early, without all the Gaston/isn't-she-a-funny-girl stuff, so that I could spend time introducing the characters to you as they're introduced to each other. I'll also be spending more time on that Beauty/Beast relationship and there'll be some twists along the way - no adorable but speedy montages here! Let me know what you think!_


End file.
